


horsemen

by oh_baby



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Fire, Flying, Gen, Kinda?, Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP Spoilers (Video Blogging RPF), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), author is an everyone apologist, but be careful anyway, but not in a sexy way, hot things, im just here to beat them up, just for wilbur's chapter, no beta we die like wilbur, phantom hybrid!phil, sbi but not, suicidal idealization, the gangs all here but they will not be dying together, this is just me rambling about my favorite white boys okay, very briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:34:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_baby/pseuds/oh_baby
Summary: Tommy, a boy who knows nothing but war and flame.Wilbur, who lost himself to waves and famine.Technoblade, the god of death grounded by earth that won't let him die.Philza, who takes to the skies but can't escape the pestilence in his mind.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	1. war and fire

One life left. 

Tommy is surprised he hasn't lost any to fire or explosions, but he's almost certain it will be the cause of his final death. 

How can he not be?

After all that's happened, it's inevitable.

It seems like it's never dark anymore. Whenever he closes his eyes all he can see is the blinding light of his world going up in flames. 

_ Again and again and again and again-  _

In the silence he hears ringing and when there's nothing else he smells ash and soot. It stains his clothes and skin, it stains whatever it spreads to. Underneath his skin, he can feel this burning electricity that never seems to fade. 

He can't tell if it hurts, or if he uses it to hurt. Maybe it's both. Maybe the destruction at his fingertips is also waging war against his own body. It doesn't matter anymore, and he's too tired to tell anyway.

Sleep evades him most nights, and when he finally collapses of exhaustion night terrors leave him breathless. 

Every dream is deafening, all he can hear is the sound of bombs exploding, buildings crumbling, and screaming. Fireworks brighten a sky smothered in smoke, walls of fire consume all that they touch. 

Smoke pours out of his mouth, his skin glows with the fire in his bones.

And he feels like he's burning. 

His very existence is a declaration of war. And oh, how it always comes to be. 

Tommy has watched everything he has ever held near and dear get blown up time and time again, he nearly lost himself in an ocean of lava, even the people around him weren't safe from his curse. 

Tubbo comes to mind, the large burn that covers his chest makes Tommy feel so terrible. The very act of being Tommy's friend had cost him a life, had hurt him. By Tommy's hands, the one that brought war and flame to all he touched, Tubbo- fucking  _ Tubbo-  _ had burned with him. 

But there is more than literal fire in his mind, Technoblade lives there too, and the blistering heat of the man's words. 

_ "You wanna be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!"  _

The message carved deeper and deeper into his mind. War is not just the only thing Tommy was good for, it's the only way forward. 

Even the more subtle burning of Dream's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to safety from the ledge. The persistent warmth of his words.

_ "I'm here for you, Tommy. Only I am here."  _

Sweat drenches his clothes and makes his hair stick to his face, it's so hot. Everything, even breathing, seems impossible in this wasteland he lives in. The wasteland safely tucked just behind his eyes. 

Because nowhere is safe. The nether boils him alive, the sun burns his skin, even when he fled into the tundra the ice underfoot had burned him too. 

There will come a time in Tommy's life where he will have to choose. Lose everything to the fire all over again or lose himself. It is only a matter of time. 

Burning scares him in a way he can't put words to, he hates the heat. Just the thought of his flesh being eaten away, of the flames charring his bones, makes him feel dizzy. 

But, Tommy will not have the strength to choose anything but letting go. As much as he hates burning he can't stand to lose anymore. 

No matter what he does, or how far he runs, the fire will come and he will make one last, permanent sacrifice to its destructive hands. His own hands, just as destructive, will have to be put to rest. 

God's die, hero's die, what fucking chance does he have? 

He was always meant to crash and burn. 

_ Burn and burn and burn and burn and-  _

**_die in a fire._ **


	2. famine and water

It's raining again, it's been raining a lot recently. 

These nights have been hard ones, life in this pitiful ravine is not easy on one's body or mind. 

Wilbur can't sleep. 

He's too hungry to sleep.

There's barely enough food for both him and Tommy and more often than not Wilbur gives the boy more food than he keeps for himself. 

_ I'll survive,  _ he thinks,  _ I will be fine. _

And he is, in the beginning anyway. 

The conditions of Pogtopia- god he misses L'manberg so dearly- are abysmal and he can see its toll on his body more and more with each day that passes.

He chooses to pretend that he can't see the steady decline of his health. Chooses to pretend that he isn't going mad.

_ "Wilbur, I'm hungry." _

_ "Drink some water, it will help some."  _

He shouldn't be out in the rain, it's really coming down now and everything is slick under his feet, but they need food. And if he can get some wood into the cave it will dry just a bit faster and be used a bit sooner. 

And the rain is nice in a way. Here, in the middle of nowhere, water pouring from the heavens, Wilbur feels somewhat at peace. 

When he returns he gives Tommy the pitiful amount of food he found and claims to have already taken his share. His clothes, which are soaking wet, hug his frame and put him on display. 

Wilbur is more skin and bones than he used to be, and he knows Tommy notices but he leaves no room for argument. 

_ "You should at least dry off so you don't get sick."  _

__ Despite not wanting to admit it, Tommy is right. Wilbur lies by the fire and feels this sudden rocking sensation. The very ground underneath him feels like it's rippling.

Wilbur feels like he's lying on a beach, and the waves are slowly pulling him out to sea. He is a stone dropped on the shore of a lake. A smooth rock skipped across its surface. Until it stops skipping and begins to sink. He falls below the surface of the water and no matter how hard he tries, he can't swim back up. His body freezes on him, even as his lungs burn. 

Wilbur is drowning. 

_ "Let's be the bad guys."  _

He's not thinking quite right, and he knows it, but he doesn't care. Couldn't if he wanted to. 

One thing, he had just wanted one thing, independence. Freedom. And here he was about to declare war on the country he'd made with his own two hands. 

The thought makes him feel dizzy. 

Actually, he already feels dizzy, it's been getting worse and worse. He feels like he's wading through water. 

Sometimes he closes his eyes and pretends he's on a beach. Pretends that the near-crippling waves of vertigo are the gentle waves of the sea. 

The water is getting cold. 

_ "What are you doing?"  _

Wilbur is in the button room again. The reeling sensation is gone, but the ground under his feet is cold. Slick like ice. 

What  _ is  _ he doing? 

… 

Does it matter? 

Wilbur wants to launch himself at Phil and get the man out of there so he can just  _ think.  _ He can't fucking think. Everything feels cold, and the pounding in his head is almost like a brain freeze. 

Phil listens as he monologues and watches as he slams his fist against the button. 

And then the explosions come and he can feel everything becoming warm again. The waves come back and he's swaying on his feet when he asks- no  _ begs-  _ his father to kill him. 

And Phil does it. 

Wilbur's hunger-racked body sinks into his father's arms. He feels waves coming again, and if he were anymore coherent he'd notice it wasn’t a last episode of vertigo, but Phil rocking him back and forth. Like the man was putting a baby to sleep, and not holding his dying son. 

Wilbur is slowly pulled out to sea. He is skipped across the waves of a vast ocean. And this time when he starts to sink, he finds his lungs don't burn like they used to.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders if he'd ever had to breathe in the first place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i promise im gonna finish this-  
> if any of u care, i'll be posting techno's chapter tomorrow and phil's as soon as i get it done after that.


	3. death and earth

Hybrids usually don't fare well in life. Many are killed or die out long before they reach adulthood.

And it's not for a lack of trying. Most try to talk it out. They make futile attempts at making peace with a world that wants nothing to do with them.

There's a reason Technoblade refuses to bind himself to any country or government. There's a reason he believes down to his very core that violence is the only way forward. 

_ Blood! Blood for the Blood God!  _

The tumultuous glee of the voices in his head drives him forward. They motivate him, they affirm his beliefs, they enable him. 

Technoblade had been born into a world that wanted him to die, but instead, he left death in his wake. He survived because he was better than them all.

Somehow, he managed to never die. 

_ Blood for the Blood God! _ ****

The earth he stands on is soft, good for crops, sustaining life, and amplifying the voices. The chatter is always so much louder close to the ground. It’s the reason he can’t sleep on the ground floor of his own house. 

They cheer and curse and cry at him all hours of the day, sometimes giving him important information, but never the information he wants. No matter what questions he asks, or the pleading he does, the crowd never answers him. 

Who is the Blood God? Is  _ he  _ the Blood God? 

Is that the reason he hasn't died yet? 

_ Technoblade never dies! E. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! _

It must be. 

It can’t be a coincidence that he deals death back to the world tenfold. That he lives when those who _dare_ to cross swords with him do not. 

Most days he ignores those thoughts, he’s seen what visions of godhood- real or imagined- can do to people. He’s seen the lengths people go to just for the hope of attaining the impossible. Technoblade will not fall to that trap. 

He has survived too long, too  _ much  _ to fall for something so obvious. 

If the strange talk in his head wants to connect him to some deity he’s never heard of, or claim that he is that deity, he’s not going to pay them any mind. For as annoying and inconvenient the voices can be, he’d rather die three times over than get rid of them. 

Technoblade doesn’t like heights. The farther he gets from solid ground, the quieter his head gets. And god forbid he stop touching the ground. 

He had once, by accident. Fallen over the edge of a cliff, he hadn’t been as careful as he should have. And as he fell through the open air, he had the horrifying epiphany that his head was quiet. 

No scream came from his throat, the only sound was the deafening roar of wind. It was maddening, even for the few seconds that it lasted. 

The ground hits him like a club to the skull, but with the dizzying return to reality comes noise that he never thought he’d be happy to hear. 

_ Technoblade never dies! Technofall! Blood! Blood for the Blood God!  _

Since then, he’s stayed as close to the ground as possible. 

The irony that the very thing that drives most mad is the thing that keeps his head on his shoulders is far from lost on him. 

The voices have always been there, and he’s half-scared he won’t be able to go on without them. Afraid he’ll succumb to the world if there’s no one shouting at him to get back up and win. 

How is he supposed to give the world its due without the crowd in his mind cheering him on? How will he perform with no audience? 

**_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!_ **

What is a god without his followers? 

… 

No. No, Technoblade has to be careful in these waters. He’s just some guy, trying his best to die of old age instead of a battle.

Or, that’s what he tells himself in his bed. From the second floor of his house, where the voices- reduced to whispers- aren’t able to rebuttal. 

_ Blood, blood for the Blood God. _


	4. pestilence and air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for your consideration: Phantom Hybrid!Phil   
> (aka i have headcanon brain rot)

The night Wilbur is gone, Phil takes to the skies for the first time in months. 

He needs the distance, he needs the world below him to disappear for a while. 

With a few satisfying pops, his wings unfurl behind him, they haven’t been out in too long. For a moment, he stands completely still, letting the cool breeze wrap around his wings and calm him. But it’s not enough, he knew it wouldn’t be.

Rising through the air is like remembering how to breathe. It's like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert. If Phil had it his way, he'd never touch the ground again. A lot of things would be different if he had his way.

But the world is not kind to folks like him.

Phantoms circle the air above him, but they don't attack him. Even the Monsters of the Night Sky won't attack their own kin. 

So what does that make Phil? 

If the phantoms that swooped down from the heavens and claimed the lives of the unlucky souls that happened to be wandering at night refused to kill family… 

What's worse than a monster? 

These things, that soared through the sky like stingrays on the ocean floor, could almost seem  _ peaceful.  _ These things that took lives, that were feared across the land took Phil into their circles like it was nothing. 

It pissed him off. 

He never asked to be like them, he never asked for anything to be this way. Never asked to eventually become worse than the thing he hated most about himself. 

Phil draws his sword, desperate for the adrenaline of a good fight, and attacks the closest phantom. 

But the thing doesn't reciprocate.

_ Why? What reason could you possibly have for mercy?  _

Gentle green eyes find his, the phantom makes a soft hissing noise. 

_ It's okay,  _ Phil can almost hear it speak,  _ It was an accident. You are forgiven.  _

But it wasn't, it wasn't a fucking accident. 

And for a moment Phil can see Wilbur in this monster's face, for a moment he forgets his son had brown eyes and the face of a human. Forgets that Wilbur had begged him to do it. 

Here he was about to kill more family. Here he was, on the verge of murdering someone who forgives him for the second time in a day. 

_ What the fuck am I doing?  _

Phil freezes mid-flight and drops like a stone. 

Wilbur had looked at him like that. While he was rambling and teetering on unstable legs. When Phil had struck him down, his son had looked at him with such  _ forgiveness  _ in his eyes.

As he rocked his dying son in his arms, Phil hadn't felt any animosity. The boy clung to him like a child who's just woken from night terrors. 

Wilbur had needed him and Phil wasn't there. Wilbur had wasted away and Phil had arrived far too late to help him. 

_ Monster of the Night Sky.  _

These creatures are better than him. Even when attacked, they still recognize him as family.

He's falling, he realizes. And if he doesn't start to fly again… 

Living things don't survive falling from this high up. 

_ Tempting. So very, very tempting.  _

But before hitting the ground he starts flapping his wings and he starts to rise back into the air. 

Higher and higher he climbs, uncaring of how his body aches with the exertion. Phil soars up past the clouds and doesn't stop until he can see both the sun and the moon at once. 

It's beautiful. The way his eyes burn makes him forget everything. Everything is easier up here, who cares if Phil is a horrible person, no one is up here to be hurt. 

But as much as he wants to never be grounded again, he will have to touch down sometime. 

_ For Techno,  _ he thinks,  _ If not for myself, for him.  _

If Techno weren't there Phil would fly away from this whole fucking planet and be done with it. 

After all, you can't do bad things to people if no one is around. 

**Author's Note:**

> this concept is Not that cool actually, but also i will think about it for three years if i don't inflict it on the world so here you go i guess.


End file.
